


Comeuppance

by All_the_damned_vampires



Series: Open His Head Baby [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Double Penetration, Enemas, Incest Kink, M/M, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sex in the Impala, Spanking, Spit As Lube, Spitroasting, Under-negotiated Kink, Unsafe Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9161722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_the_damned_vampires/pseuds/All_the_damned_vampires
Summary: Castiel gets punished.





	

 

 _The problem with being ready early_ , Cas thought, _was that it left too much time to think_.  To worry, to fret. To scuff his shoe against the rough grain of the sidewalk and wonder how much he was fucking everything up right now.

Sam had sent a text prior for Castiel to be ready Sunday at noon.  Castiel had been standing outside his own house since 10:45 am.

**_Wash up and wear clothes you don't care about. Pick you up Friday at 12._ **

Castiel blinked now, wondering if '12' mean noon or midnight, which was ridiculous; he'd talked to Sam in person that week at school, laid down some guidelines as to when he could receive texts—Michael took both their phones and docked in them in his bedroom to charge before supper and they remained there until morning; it would be a disaster if someone texted after that time—and when he had the opportunity to sneak off, when he was free.  It was a skinny window of time.  Once, months before, Castiel had carefully disengaged the burglar alarm and stepped out into the backyard for some evening air—the house had felt like it was suffocating him—only to have Michael standing at his shoulder a scant minute later, demanding to know why Castiel wasn't in bed.  Saturday afternoon was when Castiel was left in peace to do his chores and therefore best option.

It was the best option, but Castiel didn't know what he would do if Michael came home to a messy house and an unmown lawn.

 _Something to worry about in the aftermath_ , Castiel decided.  Excitement was fizzing in his veins along with the fear, but he wanted this, oh, how he wanted this.  Sam and Dean and the things they would do to him.  Castiel closed his eyes, tried to imagine what it would be like, and his brain whited out with the overload of images.

And so, he was waiting.  And worrying.

'Wash up' had been a particularly concerning command.  Of course Castiel showered; once in the morning and once after swim practice. He had a feeling that command mean something different; what with the habit Sam had developed of pressing Castiel into a bathroom stall just before last period, thigh riding between Castiel's legs, mouth hot on Castiel's, hands roaming all over his ass beneath the khaki of his school pants, gripping at the skin beneath his underwear, fingers delving thrillingly into the crease.  Finally Castiel had biked to the drug store and purchased an enema kit with his small stash of pocket money.

He had knelt in the tub naked, alone in the house, the time before Michael arrived home dangerously unknown.  He had expected the process to be unpleasant. It was not.

He'd liken it more to a religious experience.

On his knees, Castiel had taken the time to grease the fingers on one hand, as well as the tube.  Touching himself there has always felt both relaxing and arousing; a buzz building under his skin as he stroked with gentle fingers, pleasuring himself, building up his courage.  Then he had carefully slid the tube in and released the clamp. The pressure building in his gut had raised gooseflesh all along his body.  A cramp had rippled his abdomen, and Castiel moaned.  He had lain in the tub, riding out each little gut-tightening tremor, his skin tingling with pleasure.  He hadn't wanted it to end.

The timer on Castiel's phone had then gone off, and regretfully, Castiel had climbed out of the tub and shuffled over to the toilet.  Finally done, he had laid down on the floor of the bathroom and jerked off twice, slick fingers hooked in his newly clean hole.

The kit had been cleaned and dried and put away under the bathroom sink before Michael had arrived home that evening.  An innocuous little piece of medical equipment, beneath anyone's notice.  And yet, when it was time for Michael to check over Castiel's homework before bedtime, Michael had caught Castiel's gaze and asked, not unkindly, if Castiel was feeling unwell.

"Stomach troubles?" Michael had asked, all knowing and all seeing in his own home, and Castiel had blushed and stammered in the affirmative, feeling exposed.

"More fiber," Michael had insisted and Castiel's face burned, with more anger than embarrassment.  How often was Michael snooping through the cabinets, through Castiel's things?  Every damn day?

Castiel had given himself an enema every following day that week, in hedonistic defiance.   It was greedy, he knew.  But Sam had said 'wash up' and it was nearly addicting, how relaxed he felt afterward, clean and empty inside on more than one level.

The other problem was the part of the message about the clothes. Castiel didn't care for any item he wore, not even the letterman's jacket that displayed his swim accolades, worn dutifully every Friday. It was clear enough though, what Sam had meant. Wear something that wouldn't be missed. Something they could destroy.  Castiel's gut clenched again at the thought.

What were they going to do to him?

He shifted on the curb again, running a hand through the clean dampness of his hair.  He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and old track pants a bit short in the ankle. The Crocs he used for gardening on his feet.  He felt uncomfortable at how unattractive he looked.  He wanted to look good for them.  For Sam and for Dean. He wanted Sam's hot gaze on him, his fingers hooked in Castiel's school tie.

Well, he had looked worse the first time he had gotten on his knees for the Winchester brothers.  At least the weather had gentled, cooler as fall deepened, the day mild. The trickle of sweat between Castiel's shoulder blades wasn't from the heat.

A low rumble split the air suddenly and Castiel grinned widely.  Dean's Impala was pulling around the corner, stark black gloss of the paint and gleam of the chrome bumper.  Castiel shifted from foot to foot, raising his hand in a wave.

Then he dropped it.

The car was full.  As it came closer, Castiel could see two boys sitting in the back behind Sam and Dean. His stomach clenched again, this time unpleasantly.  
Dean pulled up to the curb and Sam was scrambling out before the car had dropped moving.  He bounded up to Castiel, big smile on his face, dimples flashing.

"Heya, Cas."

"Hi," Castiel said cautiously. He craned his head to look over at the Impala. The two boys in back had clambered out, skinny boys clad in old denim, their hair rough and flyaway around their lean faces.

"Mower's in the garage," Dean shouted out the open window to the two boys. "Do a good job."

"Sure thing," replied the one with a mullet.

"Thanks, Ash. Garth."

"Anything else outside need to be done today?" Sam asked, eyes on Castiel. Castiel shook his head meekly.

"Then come on."

Castiel slid into the backseat of the Impala, sliding across the smooth leather of the seats. The car had a warm, animal smell, almost like a living thing. Castiel blinked when Sam slid into the back next to him, closing the door with a decisive thud.  They were shoulder to shoulder, Sam crowding against Castiel, his arm and shoulder snugged up warmly against Castiel's own.

"Hey," Dean called from the front.

"Hello, Dean," Cas answered shyly.

"Called in a favor and got a couple of friends to do your chores," Dean continued, meeting Castiel's eyes through the rear view mirror. "So you don't have to worry."

"Thank you."

Sam leaned in then, breath hot on Castiel's ear. He murmured, "You were worried though. Why?"

Castiel shivered. He whispered back, "It's nothing."

"Liar. Was it Garth and Ash?"

"I don't know them," Castiel replied, shifting uncomfortably.  He then gasped when Sam reached under his shirt, grabbing Castiel's nipple and twisting it sharply.  
"Afraid it would have been four on one this time? Four cocks in any hole we could find? That we would have punished you that way? Ran a train on you...Jesus, Cas, you're shaking. If I'd known you liked the idea--"

"I'm not sure if I do," Castiel answered, and it was true, but when Sam reached his other hand down into Castiel's pants and let his palm rasp against Castiel's hard cock, he wasn't sure what to think. He whimpered, and the sound was swallowed by Sam's mouth, descending on his own.

"Stop that," Dean said sharply, heat in his voice. "I have to drive the damn car.  You get him all day at school, you can restrain yourself."

"Not all day--"

"You can wait," Dean said, voice big-brother-serious, and Castiel nearly moaned again at that tone in Dean's voice.  
Sam pulled back reluctantly, licking his lower lip.  He did however, hitch Castiel a little more closely into his side, fingers now stroking idly at Castiel's chest under his shirt.

"We have plans for you," Sam said.

"I gathered," Castiel returned dryly.

"Little brat. Just relax. Enjoy the drive."

It was an easy command to follow.  A fresh breeze whipped through the open windows of the Impala and ruffled Castiel's hair.  He could smell warm leather and the clean smell of Sam and another scent, spicy and masculine, which he remembered was Dean's cologne.  Castiel leaned his head back against the seat, side warm from Sam's bulk, and watched the trees flash by as they turned out of his neighborhood and headed for the highway.

Before long, the car was turning off the blacktop and jolting over a dirt road.  Dean turned the wheel again with a practiced spin of his hand and they were off the road, bumping down a flat meadow of grass, before settling to a stop in a low dip of field well off the main highway.

"We're here," Dean said, turning to grin at them, one arm slung over the back of the seat, and Castiel's breath stuttered a little at how handsome Dean looked. "You up for a picnic, Cas?"

"P-picnic?"

"After," Sam said, eyes on Dean, challenge in his tone.

Dean pressed his lips together and shifted. "Sure.  Everyone out then."

Sam opened the door and helped Castiel out of the car.  The sun was high, the air soft and warm.  Dean had climbed out and circled around.  He was opening the trunk and pulling items out.  A blanket, a cooler.  He spread the blanket on the ground, humming under his breath.  Sam had climbed back into the backseat of the Impala, leaving the door open, shifting against the leather with a sigh.  Castiel stood awkwardly near the wheel, shifting from foot to foot.

"So," Dean said finally, stretching his back.  He stepped up to Castiel, stepped into his space. "We have some things to talk about."

"Sam said you needed to punish me," Castiel whispered.

Dean snorted. "You and Sam have a one track mind. We'll get there. I want to talk about us." He shifted, looking a bit unsure.  "I-I don't suppose there's really a word for what we want. Not boyfriends."

Castiel blinked at Dean.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean continued awkwardly, "It's hard to verbalize--"

"So don't," Sam said from inside the car. "Don't label it. We want you, Cas.  And despite your very interesting reaction earlier, we really don't want to share you with anyone else."

"We know that your sister thinks--"

"We'll get to that in a bit," Sam interrupted. "Lay down some rules. The point is, we want you to be ours. Belong to us."

"Be ours," Dean repeated.  He reached out and clasped the back of Castiel's neck.  Smiled as if he could feel the loosening of Castiel's knees, transmitted through touch alone.

"Tell me the truth, Cas," Dean murmured, lips pink and plush and inches from Castiel's own. "Do you want what we want?"

"Yes," Castiel whispered back.

"Then it's settled," Dean said and brushed his lips gently against Castiel's own.  His tongue flickered out, laved at Castiel's lower lip.

"You deserve to be punished," Dean said, smiling faintly.  His eyes looked even greener in the bright sunlight.

Castiel squinted. "No, I don't."

"I'm sure Sam told you.  You belong to us. Not to anyone else.  You broke the rules."

"Which I didn't know about," Castiel countered, flushing as Dean grinned broadly, the expression lighting up his face. "I can't avoid breaking rules if I don't know what they are in the first place.  Or are you claiming _ignorantia juris non excusat_?

"Huh?"

"The fact that even though Castiel was unaware of the rules, he was still responsible to follow them," Sam supplied, still sprawled lazily in the backseat. "It’s a legal term."

"You two eggheads and your debate tournaments—"

"You have to admit," Castiel pressed on, feeling bolder, "That 'belonging to you' falls well outside the scope of an average person's liability.  After all, it's not like I was jaywalking."

"This isn't debate class," Dean retorted, grinning.

"You forgot the most important argument in favor of a beating, Cas," Sam added.

"What?"

"You want us to punish you," Sam answered.

Castiel gulped, falling silent.  He looked down at his toes, his whole body tingling all over.

"I think Sammy just scored a point," Dean laughed.  There was a jingle of metal against metal and Castiel glanced up to see Dean working his well-worn belt out of the loops of his jeans.

"Y-you're going to punish me…with that?" Castiel whispered.

"You got a problem with belts?  If you do—"

"No," Castiel interrupted, understanding.  Michael didn't believe in corporal punishment.  And Chuck had never been motivated to discipline any of his kids in any way. He'd never had reason to fear the clink of a belt buckle.

"Make you a deal," Dean said, fingering the buckle. "You can have a dozen from the belt.  Or twenty from my hand.  What's it going to be?"

"Hand," Castiel replied promptly.

Sam laughed. "You made it too easy, Dean."

"I'm learning," Dean said defensively, but he didn't seem offended.  He dropped the belt on the blanket, the reached out and gripped Castiel by the nape of the neck.  Smiled at Castiel's sudden, soft sigh. "Like I said, you get more time with him.  But I'm learning what he likes quickly enough."

Castiel felt a bit cross-eyed with pleasure, wilting under the fierce intensity of Dean's attention.

"For example," Dean continued, "I'm getting the impression he likes me talking about in the third person.  Talking about him, not to him.  Like what he wants doesn't even matter.  That sound about right?"

"Yeah," Castiel sighed.

"I think it also makes things easier for him," Dean said, and he stepped back with a critical eye. "Which is why, Cas, I'm going to address you.  Get your clothes off. Now."

"I—"

"One more spank for each time you hesitate," Dean said, taking another step back until he was lounging against the side of the car. "You're now at twenty-one.  I said, 'strip.' Do it."

Castiel pulled his shirt over his head, face flaming with embarrassment, with exposure.  At least he wasn't wearing much.  No underwear; and it took less than a minute to slide his pants off his legs, to toe off his Crocs and nudge them to the side with one foot.  He stood, shoulders a bit hunched, hands at his side. A mild breeze riffled through the hair on his legs and groin, sending a shiver up his spine.

"Come over here, Cas," Sam said softly. "Stomach on the seat."

Inside the car it was warmer, darker.  It seemed less exposed, until Sam slid over a bit, directing Castiel down on his belly, leather warm under his sweating skin.  His head was hovering over Sam's lap, his legs outside the car and bent awkwardly at the knee.  Dean kicked Castiel's legs wider unexpectedly, causing Castiel to let out a startled yelp.  Sam laughed, his stomach muscles moving against Castiel's cheek.  Then a rough hand was dragging across the exposed surface of Castiel's ass, palm ridged with calluses from hard work, raising goosebumps, as Dean slid into place behind Castiel.

"I wonder," Sam murmured, sliding a finger inside Castiel's panting mouth, "If you'll be able to suck me off while Dean is beating on you…ouch!"

"Sorry," Castiel gasped, removing his teeth from Sam's finger.  Dean had laid down one crisp smack, startling Castiel into biting down.

"Probably no blowjob," Dean said, laughing and followed up with two quick slaps, causing Castiel to groan and bite down on a strip of Sam's jeans.

"This is not much fun for me," Sam complained.

"Funny, me and Cas are having a great time," Dean said. "At least, I think."  He dragged sharp fingers down Castiel's ass, leaving pink streaks in their wake.

"Should I count?" Castiel asked breathlessly.

"Nope. You can scream if you want, though."

"Bite on this," Sam said. The edge of Sam's t-shirt was being stuffed into Castiel's panting mouth. "Ready?"

Castiel gave a shaky nod, mouth stuffed full of fabric.  Then Dean let him have it.

He didn't pull his hits, slapping hard and steady, covering every inch of Castiel's ass with methodical skin.  It burned, stung, and Castiel flinched, skin on fire, breath hissing between his teeth, tongue flicking frantically at the cloth in his mouth.

It went on for a long time, until Castiel was finally whimpering frantically, face buried in Sam's shirt, knees shaking.  He had finally given up shifting away from each smack, and instead drooped under the impact, knees wobbly, defeated.

"Finally," Dean said, his voice somehow far away.  Castiel spit the wet fabric out of his mouth and turned his head, pillowing one tear-stained cheek on Sam's thigh.  He blinked, watching Dean roll one shoulder, shake out his hand.

"Was that good, Cas?" Sam asked.  One of his hands was stroking through Castiel's sweat-damp hair.

"I…I think that was a bit more than twenty-one," Castiel said softly.

"It was nearly twice that," Sam answered. "You just wouldn't let go.  But did you like it?"

"It was supposed to be a punishment, wasn't it?" Castiel hissed then and glanced over his shoulder.  Dean had crouched down, was stroking one hand over the abused surface of Castiel's ass, his expression absorbed.

"If you didn't like it, then we'll reserve it for when you need to be punished," Dean said.

"I…I don’t know if I liked it…when you were doing it," Castiel murmured, thinking, "But now…"  His whole body felt loose, like some great ball of tension had been released.  He was comfortable, the leather seat warm beneath his sweaty skin, his hair petted, Dean's tender hands on his ass and thighs.

"Now you feel good," Sam supplied.

"Yes."

"I want to fuck you," Dean said, fingers still stroking at Castiel's hot skin.  He pressed a little, widening Castiel's stance, tugging his thighs apart.  Then his fingers were stroking delicately down the crease of Castiel's ass. "Can I fuck you, Cas?"

Castiel whimpered in response.

"Has anyone ever been inside this ass," Dean whispered, breath hot against Castiel's hip.  Castiel watched from his sideways angle as Dean sucked two of his own fingers between his plush lips, then pressed them spit-wet against Castiel's hole.

"Oh God…"

"Answer me."

"No."

"Dammit!" Sam exclaimed.

"I told you." Dean's voice was smug.

"I can't believe you get to go first."

"I won fair and square," Dean said, fingers swirling at Castiel's entrance.  Castiel panted.  His cock, which had hung disinterestedly through the spanking, was filling rapidly.

Sam crossly muttered something that sounded like, "he usually throws scissors," but Castiel couldn't concentrate.  Dean's hands were now spreading his cheeks wide, and before he could do more than gasp in surprise, Dean's tongue was lapping at his pucker was soft, languid strokes.

"Dean!"

"He's really good at that," Sam said fondly, ruffling Castiel's hair, before reaching down to knead at Castiel's neck.

"Hu…how d-do you know?"

"Who do you think he practiced on?" Sam answered and Castiel gasped and came hard against the side of the seat.

"Shit…did he..?"

"Yes," Sam said and grabbed Castiel sharply by the nape of the neck. "You have no self-control, Cas."

"S-sorry!"

"Reach down and take hold of your dick," Sam instructed, "Now, don't stroke it. You pinch the tip if you even _think_ you're going to come.  You really should be asking our permission."

"I don't mind," Dean said, and buried his face back between the cheeks of Castiel's ass.  His tongue swirled in a luxurious circle, before prodding at the muscle, worrying it open with sharp, wet little jabs.  Castiel shook and moaned.  And then Dean's tongue was inside him, fucking into his ass with steady strokes, spreading that little ring of muscle wider and wider.

"Cas," Sam murmured, voice a low growl, and then his hand was away from Castiel's neck and fumbling with the fly on his jeans.  Sam drew out his cock, blood-flushed and wet at the tip, letting it smear against Castiel's pink cheek. "Cas, suck me."

Castiel fumbled it into his mouth, turning to take it as deep as he could.  It was a difficult angle and he could feel the weight of Sam's cock pressing his mouth wide, scraping at his teeth.  Soon it was plunging in shallowly, Sam's hips giving little pulses as Castiel sank his mouth down on it as best he could.  There was a buzz building in his head, this thrill of electricity snaking down his spine, leaving him even more boneless than before.

"Good boy," Sam said from far away and Castiel hummed, a low, throaty sound that turned into a moan each time Dean's tongue plunged deep.

Limp and trembling, Castiel sucked mindlessly at the flesh in his mouth.  He felt Dean retreat, then heard the purr of Dean's zipper, then the crinkle of a foil packet being opened.

Castiel pulled away from Sam, shifted his aching jaw. "No."

"You don't want this?" Dean asked, hurt in his voice.

"N-no condom. Don't use a condom." Castiel heard Sam's sharp intake of breath.

"Dammit, Cas—"

"Please," Castiel begged.  He could already feel Dean's cock, wonderfully bare, brushing against the spit-wet crease of Castiel's ass, nudging at his hole.

"Please, Dean," Sam repeated, his voice as wrecked as Castiel's.

"Damn irresponsible…"

"Please. I wanna feel you."

"You're not gonna fuck anyone but me and Sam," Dean growled and then he was pressing in, the head of his cock spreading Castiel open, the stretch a shocking burn.

"Dean!"

"You want it?" Dean asked roughly, rocking his hips, tip of his dick just inside Castiel.  Castiel squirmed. "Ask for it."

"Please, Dean!"

"Tell me what you want."

"I want you to fuck me, Dean."

"Show me," Dean said, pressing his hand against the small of Castiel's back. "Push your ass up and show me just how desperate you are."

Arching his back, Castiel pressed back onto Dean's cock.  Like a lock untwisting, Dean slid in slow, opening Castiel up in one controlled, searing slide.

"Ah!"

"That's a good boy.  Keep that ass up." A slap, raining down on Castiel's abused ass, reminding him of how tender that skin was.  Then Dean was rocking his hips hard, pushing flush against the sore curve of Castiel's ass, before pulling out in one long, raw stroke.

"Oh God.  D-dean!"

"Fill up that mouth, Sam," Dean ordered and Sam was reaching down, big hand cupping Castiel's jaw, feeding his dick back into Castiel's mouth, muffling his wail.

Dean fucked him roughly and Castiel arched into it, the ache, the way Dean tunneled deep inside him, scraping at his insides and setting him on fire.  Each drag in and out made Castiel's dick throb desperately, and he dug his thumbnail into the head, staving off the explosion that was building low in his gut.

"Don't you dare," Sam warned, then he was groaning, hips jerking up, as heat flooded Castiel's mouth.  He felt Dean plunge deep one last searing time, then curse, his hands clawing at Castiel's hips as he shuddered through his own orgasm.

Whimpering, Castiel swallowed around Sam's softening cock.  He licked at it, Sam jumping at the attention, but when he made to pull away, Sam gripped Castiel's hair and held him in place.

"Keep it in your mouth," Sam murmured, low and filthy, in answer to Castiel's questioning whine. "Suck me hard again.  Slowly. Then it's my turn."

The sun had slipped closer to the horizon, warm orange light filtering through the Impala's windows.  Castiel lay still, breathing through his nose, mouth working gently at the flesh in his mouth.  After a while, he felt Dean withdraw carefully. Castiel groaned at the feeling, how open and raw he felt.  Then he whimpered as he felt fingers against his opening, swirling in the wetness leaking from his hole, petting tenderly at the swollen flesh there.

"You took it so good, Cas," Dean murmured approvingly and Castiel sobbed, writhing a bit, the praise making him feel more desperate than the ache in his groin and the delicate petting. "You're so open right now.  Sweet pink and red and creamy."  He pressed two fingers in, making Castiel keen around the cock in his mouth. "If I put my mouth here—"

"Please don't," Castiel pleaded, yanking off Sam's hardening dick to babble in Dean's general direction, "If you do that I'm going to come."

"Like I said, I don't mind."

"Wait," Sam said sternly, and pushed his way back inside Castiel's mouth.  He began to move his hips in earnest, shallow thrusts against Castiel's palate, his dick beginning to fill Castiel's mouth and stretch his lips wider.

"Getting ready, baby brother?"

"Since you got him nice and open for me…"

"Just a minute," Dean said and Castiel heard the click of a bottle cap. "Let me get him a little wetter.  You're a bit—"

"Bigger?"

"I was going to say 'rougher'," Dean retorted, slicking his fingers with lube. He slid them deep inside Castiel, fingers flexing to stretch Castiel's passage.

"He's gonna feel it all next week," Sam agreed, fucking into Castiel's mouth, muffling his sighs.  He pulled out, then gave Castiel's arm a tug. "Pull him out for a minute."

Dean helped Castiel stand on shaky legs.  Sam grinned up at both of them, then shucked his jeans and underwear, turning to recline back on the seat, his long, bare legs dangling out the Impala's rear door.

"Lazy," Dean snorted, but he squirted a stream of lube into Sam's outstretched hand.

"I wanna watch him work," Sam said, wet hand stroking roughly up and down his own dick.  He patted his own thigh with the opposite hand. "Climb aboard."

Trembling, Castiel climbed back onto the seat, hovering awkwardly over Sam's body.  There was enough room to wedge his knee between the back of the seat and Sam's body, but his left leg slid off, and he finally braced his foot on the floorboards, his hands on Sam's shoulders.

"Cas," Sam murmured, eyes hopelessly soft, and he tugged Castiel down into a gentle, wet kiss.

Castiel opened, let Sam lick tenderly into his mouth.  He felt Sam grip his hip, and then he was sinking down, Sam's cock pushing his body open, achingly big.

"Sit on it," Sam murmured into Castiel's panting mouth.  He yanked Castiel down and thrust up and breached Castiel's ass in one raw stroke.

"Oh! Ah-ah, Sam!"

"All the way," Sam said, still pulling Castiel down.  He felt huge, dick thrusting deep inside Castiel, making his guts throb.

"Okay, Cas?" That was Dean.

"Don't baby him," Sam replied, but he was searching Castiel's face, hazel eyes intent upon Castiel's own blue gaze.  He popped his hips, making Castiel gasp, smiling at the grimace on Castiel's face. "He's all right.  Aren't you, Cas?"

"Y-yes, ah, yes!"

"Set the pace," Sam encouraged, giving Castiel another nudge. "But I want it deep and slow.  Fuck me, Cas."

It burned even more when Castiel rose up, Sam's dick catching slickly against Castiel's insides.  Castiel panted, dick throbbing with the sensation.  He couldn't get a hand on himself, braced against the brown curves of Sam's shoulders, but the sharpness of penetration was enough to keep him on the edge.  He sank back down, adjusting, spreading himself open for Sam, and this time a tremor of pleasure shivered through him, making Castiel moan.

"Good boy," Dean said.  There was a wet, slapping sound.  Dean, stroking himself, watching Castiel fuck his little brother.

"Please," Castiel moaned. Sam jerked his hips as Castiel sank down again, shoving his dick even deeper.

"Please, what?" Dean asked.

"I want…ah…I want you both…"

"Shit, Cas."

"I don’t know if we can—"

"Fuck, Dean, _please_." That was Sam.

Castiel arched his back, riding up on Sam's dick.  Begged with his body, ass out in invitation.  He heard Dean curse, and then thick, wet fingers were pulling at his rim, stretching, delving in beside Sam's pumping cock.  Castiel shouted.

"Just relax," Sam soothed, nipping at Castiel's gasping mouth. "Open up, Cas."

Shivering, Castiel tilted his hips, trying to open himself wider.  He could feel one, two, three fingers plunging into him, stroking alongside Sam's dick.

"Good boy, Cas," Dean murmured, voice rough. "Here it comes."

Sam tugged Castiel's hips up, sliding him up Sam's dick. Then there was pressure, so much pressure, as Dean pressed in, spreading Castiel wide.

"Ah-ah!"

"That's a good boy, oh, good boy, Cas," Dean crooned, sliding in.

"Fuck!" Sam's voice sounded wrecked.

"Oh!" Castiel's head was spinning.  He wondered how it felt to Sam, feeling his own brother's dick sliding against his own, packed tight inside Castiel.

As if he could read Castiel's mind, Dean began to talk, voice rough and rasping. "Feel that, Sammy? My dick feel good, little brother?"

"Dean…"

 "What do you think Cas?  Which of our dicks feels better inside you?" Dean fucked quick, short, sharp snaps of his hips.

"Dammit, Dean," Sam shifted, trying to thrust up, slow the pace. 

"Nuh-uh, little brother, I'm driving.  Gonna make you both lose control. After all, I know all your secrets, Sam.  How fast I can make you lose control, when we pick up the pace.  And Cas…" Dean leaned in, his voice gravelly, "How do you think I know so much about what makes Sam lose it?"

"Ah-oh God, Dean!"

"Fuck, Dean!"

Castiel felt Sam jerk beneath him, scream.  Castiel joined him, voice rising in a wail, coming hot and fast along Sam's stomach, black flashing behind his eyes as he toppled forward, hitting his cheek against Sam's shoulder with a thunk.  His eyes fluttered shut, and he passed out.

There was a nubby blanket under Castiel's cheek.  He shifted on his stomach, aches lighting up all over his body, particularly between his legs.  He groaned.

"Welcome back." Dean's voice.

"Did I sleep…oh!" Castiel yelped.  Something cold was pressed between his legs, chilling the most inflamed part of him.  He lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder.

Sam had pulled a beer out of the cooler and slapped it between Castiel's thighs.

"Cold!"

"Hold it there," Sam ordered. "It'll make you feel better in a minute."

"I'm fine," Castiel said, shifting with embarrassment.  Sam and Dean were reclining on the blanket, back in their jeans and t-shirts.  Only Castiel was still naked, breeze rifling across his bare ass.

"Relax," Sam said. "You deserve it.  I mean, jeez Cas, we weren't expecting to double team you like that your first time out of the gate."

"Overachiever," Dean commented, reaching out to fondly pet his hand through Castiel's curls. Sam reached out too, but his hand drifted down to stroke considerably lower.

"Ow," Castiel complained half-heartedly.

"It's not so bad," Sam said, scratching lightly with his nails.  Castiel wriggled at the fiery touch. "He went easy on you."

"The _hell_ I did."

Sam's hand drifted up the curve of Castiel's back. "He can take a lot, I think.  Can't you, Cas?"

"Yes," Castiel said primly, making both the brothers laugh.  He blinked at the waning light.  The sun was setting. "How long was I out?"

"You need to go home?"

He did.  He really did.  But Castiel didn’t want to go.  He wanted to stay, naked, feeling sated and adored.  He wanted to watch the sun go down.  He wanted a lot of things, things he probably could never have.  This moment, with them, he didn’t want it to end.  But all things did.

It wasn't enough, but it would have to be.

"A few more minutes," Castiel said, feeling selfishly weak.  But when Dean came closer and rolled Castiel up onto his leg, tilting his own beer bottle to tip beer into Castiel's mouth, Castiel knew he'd made the right choice.

It was nearly half an hour later that saw Castiel stiffly wriggling into his discarded pants and drawing on his shirt.  The fabric itched against the irritated skin of his ass, and he could smell the bright bleach smell of semen, leaking out of him and onto the nylon of his pants.

"You smell," Sam said, nuzzling into Castiel's neck with a sigh, but he didn't specify good or bad.  They were snuggled together in the backseat, Dean behind the wheel.  Castiel let his head drift back as the Impala started with a growl, Dean spinning the wheel to bump the car out of the grass and back onto the road, one elbow propped up on the door, all the windows down to let the afternoon breeze stream in.

"You like it," Castiel murmured back.

"God, I do," Sam whispered back, mouth wet against Castiel's neck. "Cas, _Cas_.  Wanna keep you forever."

 _I'm yours_ , Castiel almost whispered, but he bit his tongue and just rolled his body closer to Sam's.

"Cas," Sam murmured again, like saying the name hurt him, and then he was tugging at the waistband of Castiel's pants, one hand dipping down to press questing fingers against Castiel's sore hole.

"Sam," Castiel whimpered, not quite a complaint.  His dick gave a half-hearted jerk at the touch.

"Just let me," Sam whispered, hooking one finger tenderly inside, plunging into the puffy slickness of Castiel's ass. "Just let me be inside you a little longer."

"Okay," Castiel whispered back, and he tilted his neck farther to let Sam nuzzle it with lips and teeth.

They pulled up to the curb of Castiel's house a short while later.  The sun was setting, and the windows were all dark, light reflecting off the panes.  Sam extricated his fingers from Castiel's pants and pressed one long, wet final kiss to Castiel's mouth.

"Everything okay?" Dean asked from the front.

"I don't think Michael's home yet," Castiel said absently.  He opened the door and climbed out of the car, his whole body feeling stiff with more than just the aches of everything he'd done that afternoon.  He had to go inside.  He didn't want to.

"Hey," Dean said, beckoning with a finger and Castiel bent back down to the opened window.  Dean surged up to press his mouth against Castiel's in a quick kiss, before sinking back into his seat with a white-toothed grin. "Next week?"

"Next week."

Castiel watched Sam climb into the front and then the Winchester brothers were rolling away, the Impala's growl growing fainter as they rounded the corner and were out of sight. He looked up at the sky and sighed.

Then he walked toward the house.

It was dim inside and Castiel let himself in, closing the door behind him.  He was tired and sore and he wanted to shower and jerk off and sleep.  He walked through the living room and padded up the stairs, but before he was half way up he was arrested by the click of a lamp, yellow light flickering to sear at his eyes.  There was the creak of leather as someone seated in the recliner by the television shifted to their feet and stood.

Castiel didn't turn around.

"The grass looks nice," Michael said from behind him, voice deceptively mild.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this long ass sex scene...omg. What even are adjectives? Next time I'm just gonna fade to black and then bring the spotlight back up to highlight whoever's ass is gaping and dripping spunk. Let me know if I somehow described anyone's dick as a "throbbing member."   
>  This is so much easier when everyone is just crying and talking about their feelings.


End file.
